


Lovely Linda

by andthemoondogs



Category: The Beatles (Band)
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-11
Updated: 2019-02-11
Packaged: 2019-10-26 01:44:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17736644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andthemoondogs/pseuds/andthemoondogs
Summary: Linda gives Paul an ultimatum---leave or open up about what's really been bothering him since The Beatles broke up.





	Lovely Linda

**Author's Note:**

> This is a collaboration with https://m0rning-moon.tumblr.com!
> 
> This is also part of the Two of Us Series which can be found here: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1252952 but as it's not John and Paul speaking, we decided to post it separately from the series itself.

With the girls down for a nap, Linda headed out of Mary's room, sighing as she closed the door behind her, leaning against it. She rubbed a hand down her face. She did _not_ want to have this conversation. Not at all. She had no idea how it would go, either. She didn't want to lose him, but she couldn't keep doing **THIS**. Walking to the bedroom, her steps hesitant, she leaned against the frame and watched Paul for a moment as he slept. He was disheveled, worn, and most of _hurt_. She knew all of this, but the level of depression her husband had sank to was far beyond anything she could help him with. 

_She had to do this_.

With a deep breath, she walked over to the bed, hand on Paul's shoulder and shook him gently. "Paul... wake up. We need to talk..." she said. But he didn't wake up that easily. Another, more firm shake and a louder voice, " _Paul_... wake up..." she said, her frustration clearly evident in her tone.

Hands. Beautiful hands. Once so soft and caring, tender to no one else but him, but now, they were hard and rough. Pushing him away. Pushing him down, down, down. He felt like he was being smothered, lost underwater with no air. Familiar tunes played in the background, songs they'd written for each other. Songs that once were so special, now they just felt like the notes had transformed into knives tearing him apart. Those beautiful hands pushed harder, and Paul sank deeper and deeper with every breath he tried and felt like he failed to take. He was drowning. And it was his own fault. 

Suddenly, those hands materialized into real life - they started out trying to push him down but now they pulled him up towards the surface. He sat up, out of breath, his back slick with ocean water - or it could have just been sweat. “St- _stop_ ,” he whimpered, curling into himself protectively. His brain awoke a few seconds after his body, only then hazily registering that the hands that shook him awake weren’t the same from the dream, but his wife’s, who stared at him with bewildered blue eyes. 

“Lin... I’m sorry. Sorry, I was dreaming...” He rubbed at his eyes, looking to the window for a clue as to what time it was, but the curtains were drawn - as they usually were, these days. “What time is it?”

Linda followed his gaze to the curtains. Part of her wanted to be kind and gentle, but to be quite honest, that had her _tired_. She was at a breaking point, feeling like she could take no more of Paul's moping. It had become far too commonplace and while her heart ached for him, she couldn't help but be annoyed at the same time. He had her and the girls, wasn't that enough?

"It's two in the afternoon... are you still drunk?" she asked, looking at him, her bewilderment turning to a scoff as she rolled her eyes and looked away. "You know what?" she said with a deep breath, eyes back on her husband. "It doesn't matter. We need to talk."

“No, I’m—“ Paul began, but Linda interrupted him, insisting they needed to talk. His head hurt before, but _now_ , it felt like it weighed a ton. From the look her face, this _couldn’t_ be good. 

“Okay,” Paul said with a nod of his head - immediately regretting his decision to do so. Any and all movement he made hurt like _hell_. “What’s going on?”

She could tell he was hurting and that made this even more difficult, but it was now or never. She _had_ to get this off her chest. "This has to stop. This constant moping, the drinking until all hours of the night, sleeping the day away... I don't know how much more I can take. The girls miss you, _I_ miss you... ever since the break up, things have been bad, Paul. Really bad. I understand they were like family, but you _have_ to get it together," she said, hands trembling. “You _still have_ a family, you know?”

Paul's head spun, heart beating out of his chest as he realized what was happening.

He'd lost everything, and now he was about to lose _Linda_ as well. She'd been the very reason he'd let go of so much, and yet, he couldn't even hold on to her. 

It was hard to believe that over the course of only a few years one could go from sitting on the top of the world to carrying all its weight on his shoulders.

It took Paul a moment to realize Linda was done speaking and awaiting a response, staring at him silently, questioningly. He wished he had something to say to her, that he had an excuse for being nothing but a waste of space these last few weeks ( _months_? Honestly, he'd lost count), but he couldn't come up with anything. _I'm heartbroken, I miss him, I still love him and he fucking hates me_ were all things that came to mind, but they were nothing short of _embarrassing_ and he should man the fuck up and forget about it; be a father, be a husband to his wife who did nothing but love him despite him being absolutely insufferable to be around from day one.

He didn't see the tears coming - his vision was blurry already from the throbbing headache and his chest had felt tight since he woke up from that awful dream. Warm wetness cascaded down his cheeks, disappearing somewhere under his beard, and he tried to be quick to wipe them away, but it was no use - he could see the shift of expression in Linda's face, a telltale sign that she most definitely noticed them, and he fucking _hated it_.

Linda sat on the edge of the bed, though she looked away for a moment, trying to collect herself and her thoughts. She couldn't do that looking at him, watching the tears slip down his face. Part of her wanted to reach up and wipe them away, but the other part of her was saying _no_ , now's not the time. "Paul..." she started, her voice breaking. She cleared her throat and looked back at him, reaching out to rest a hand on his. "Listen, you need to get it together or I have to go. I can't... I can't do this anymore..." she said softly, gently even. God, this broke her heart to do. Paul so clearly needed someone right now, but _damn it_ she just couldn't keep doing this. He had changed **so much** \---too much. 

The incessant drinking, the wallowing, the way he disappeared from life itself. It was too much. She squeezed his hand and let go, hoping he didn't feel the way her hand shook as she tried to offer some semblance of comfort, even in this most dire time for the both of them. She was hoping he would be magically okay, but she knew that wasn't likely. She knew that it would take some time for him to get back to his old self, though she wondered how much of his old self would even be able to come through this harrowing depression.

Linda stood again, wringing her hands for a moment before dropping them to her sides. "It's up to you now. I can't make you change, but if you choose to get better, know that I'm here for you every step of the way." She paused, her expression turning softer, "Let me help you get better... I don't want things to end this way, but if you don't open up to me and let me in... if you don't _talk_ to me, I can't help and if I can't help, I can't do this anymore."

Paul hated every second of this. He hated being vulnerable, he hated the pity and the pain in Linda's eyes, hated the sting of tears that just kept on coming despite every fiber of his being urging them to _stop_. Linda didn't deserve this. She deserved a happy man, a _competent_ man who would be a shoulder for her to cry on should she needed, damn it, _not_ the other way around. 

He couldn't look at her, focusing instead on the overflowing ashtray sitting on the table next to his bed, but it was just as bad. He felt _pathetic_ for drowning his sorrows in drugs and booze - he had _never_ been like this before. He'd been drinking since the age of sixteen and on some drug or other since eighteen or so, sure, but he'd always been the responsible one; he hardly ever went overboard, and even drunk he was just _fun_ , not the soppy, weepy drunk he'd turned into lately. 

Linda's words resonated with him, though - _let me help you get better_. He wasn't a lost cause in her eyes and she still very much loved him, was willing to _help_ , even. The next obstacle, though - which Linda didn't know about just yet - was that Paul didn't trust his voice to say the words that needed to be said for them to move forward. He was pathetic enough as it was - admitting the underlying reason for his deep depression was _heartbreak_ for someone they were both pretty sure would love to see him dead was, to put it simply, beyond what Paul could imagine himself doing.

"I--I _want_ to get better," he said, voice small and trembling, unsure. "And I can't lose you, as well. But I--" A sob escaped him and he angrily rubbed at his face, "I don't think anyone can help at this point. And I don't want you to... lose respect for me, or think of me differently. I just-- I _can't_ lose you, Lin."

Linda was not dumb. She was no fool. There was something _else_ going on, though admittedly, she had no idea what it could be... aside from someone else. Though, prior to this deep depression Paul found himself in, he'd been there for her and the girls every step of the way. It simply wasn't _like_ him. Not the Paul she knew, anyway. 

Her heart was shattering with every tear that fell and her will was growing weak, though she kept a strong outward appearance. "Tell me what's going on then. _Talk_ to me. I can't be in this marriage alone. We've had our ups and downs, but we've gotten through them, so let's get through this. What are feeling right now? You know I love you or I wouldn't be trying to fix this. I would've walked away. I'm doing my part, now it's your turn to do yours. Why are you so upset? Tell me." Linda's words were firm yet there was a gentleness about them, as always. "You gotta talk to me, Paul..."

"You have to promise," Paul said, uselessly wiping at his face, red eyes searching for Linda's. "Promise that you won't think less of me if I tell you... _anything_." Sniffling, he belatedly realized what this was starting to sound like. "I didn't-- I never cheated on you. It's not that. I promise."

Linda's heart skipped a beat, but she nodded. "I promise," she said, reaching for his hand again as she sat back down. "You can tell me anything," she said, though her gentle features showed concern at his words. If he hadn't cheated, then what?

To Paul, Linda seemed _worried_ , but not angry. He couldn't quite tell whether she was relieved or not by the declaration that he hadn't cheated - she was probably scouring her brain for just _what_ could it possibly be, if not that. Fingers twitching nervously under Linda's hand, Paul struggled to hear his own thoughts over the deafening sound of his heart thumping in his chest, in his ears, everywhere. 

He had to do this. He had to tell her. As strange and antithetical as that seemed, this was the _only_ way to keep her from leaving. In truth, he had no guarantee that this would make her stay, but it was weirdly more likely she would if she understood what was happening with him.

"I..." He began, but felt too queasy to finish. It was just such a surreal situation. "Um, you know--" He cleared his throat, looking away. "You know John and I were, uh, really close. More than George and Rich and, uh, everybody else." Sneaking a look back at his wife, Paul found she was nodding, expecting him to continue. "Well, I-- _we_..."

He couldn't continue. It felt as though his body fought against him telling Linda this, a giant wave of nausea washing over him and turning his vision pitch black. Stumbling, he found his way into the bathroom, sloppily pouring himself a glass of water. He downed it all in one go, then splashing his face and taking a deep, shaky breath. Looking back, he found a very confused Linda staring at him with a look of pure worry in her eyes, and his heart _hurt_ even more. "I'm so sorry. I-- I didn't feel too good. I'm okay now, I think. Uh..." He gestured for her to lead the way back into the bedroom, running a trembling hand through his hair.

Linda, now more concerned than ever, walked back into the bedroom, sitting on the edge of the bed once more and patting the space next to her for Paul to sit. Once he had, the words he had spoken before he got up and ran into the bathroom finally set it. _More than everybody else_. "So... you and John were close. That much I know... losing your best friend and your band all in one go has to be hard..." she trailed off, deep in thought. She was **almost** afraid of what he was saying, but he had promised he hadn't cheated---

"Paul... did you... are you saying you and John were... _more than friends_?" A beat passed before she continued. "Were you lovers?" she flat out asked, wondering if she was on the right track here. She would be _mortified_ if she was wrong, but she **had** to ask.

Again, this felt _surreal_.

Paul had _never_ had to tell this to anybody else - well, not explicitly, anyway. George, Ringo, Brian, Mal and Neil all knew, but there was never a proper talk like this. It just wasn't his style, or John's. He briefly wondered if John had told Yoko - and if he'd felt as strange as he did, doing it. 

Eyes fixed on the floor, Paul nodded slowly, chewing nervously on his bottom lip. "I-- _we're_ not queer," he found himself saying defensively, even though Linda had never shown any signs of having a problem with that. " _Obviously_ , we both like women. I mean-- I don't know how it happened, but it sort of... _did_."

Linda's heart _sank_ but in a strange way, she was also relieved that he had finally opened up to her. Everything made sense now. Now they could move forward. She hoped, anyway. She reached an arm around him, pulling him close and rested her head on his shoulder, her other hand reaching for his. "When did it start?" she asked, curious to know what she was up against. Was this a new thing or did it have deep roots? She suspected the latter, but needed to hear it from Paul's mouth. She needed to know what happened so she could help him heal. And she had every intention of helping him, of being there for him. She knew that John meant a lot to Paul, but she hadn't ever thought it was _this_ complicated. Then again, part of her was completely unsurprised at this revelation so maybe she had thought about it somewhere deep down inside. Either way, she wanted Paul to know that she loved him and accepted him---all of him.

Paul felt an enormous weight being lifted off his shoulders - not only did Linda not seem in the least bit judgmental, she was _supportive_ , seemingly understanding his pain. She cuddled up to him and he wrapped an arm around her, pulling her close. "Hamburg," he said, absent-mindedly playing with the ring on Linda's finger. "We were... God, I don't know, I think he was nineteen or twenty. I must've been about eighteen. It was... kind of a casual thing, y'know, in the beginning. It got a little more serious after we went to Paris for his birthday - because he took _me_ , y'know, instead of Cyn. You know, the, uh-- you've seen some photos."

She had seen them, of course. She nodded as he spoke, watching him playing with the band on her finger. Hamburg seemed like a lifetime ago as far as Linda was concerned. So the roots were, as expected, quite deep. "What happened?" she asked, turning her head to rest her chin on the edge of his shoulder, looking at him. She was beyond curious to know everything about their relationship. She felt a little jealous, but at the same time, she was here with him now and he was communicating with her, not John. She felt honored that he had confided this in her, truth be told, and she intended to be there for Paul in any way she could. She really didn't want to walk away from him, especially now. It was no wonder he'd been so morose. He'd lost someone he clearly loved for many years. She wasn't quite sure how to feel, she only knew she needed to be supportive right now.

"Well, uh..." Paul stopped for a moment, thinking back to India - when everything began to fall apart. "It sounds stupid now, but-- you know John. When there's something in his head, nothing in the world can stop him. Well, he-- of course, we'd always sort of kept our lives as they were, y'know. He was married to Cyn and I was seeing Jane. When we went to India, we all took the girls with us and for some reason - I still don't know why - he decided we had to leave Cyn and Jane and just be with each other. I don't know _how_ he ever thought that was going to work, but he was dead serious. He told me either I left Jane or we were done." He sighed. "Now, I-- I _know_ it was wrong for us to cheat on the girls. I know that. But I... I can't speak for John, but I never really loved Jane that much. We had no intention of getting married or anything - we broke up shortly after India. I would _never_ do that to you, and I want you to know that."

"That wouldn't work," she agreed, shaking her head. She pressed a kiss to Paul's cheek before resting her head on his shoulder once more, leaning into him. "I believe you," she said honestly, squeezing his hand in hers. "I know you wouldn't... so... your trip to India was when things stopped with John?" Linda was honestly curious and wanted to know everything she could about their relationship. It clearly meant so much to Paul, and he probably hadn't had anyone to share it with. Keeping something like that a secret had to be _stressful_. She could only imagine the stress it had caused Paul. "How did you keep this a secret?" she asked before Paul could answer the first question, suddenly amused and smiling as she moved her head to look at Paul.

"Well, the people we were closest with knew. Rich and George and Mal and Neil - and Brian, too, before he died. Because we were always together, y'know, and at some point we just stopped caring. They were all fine with it - whether it was because they understood or they were just scared John would beat the shit out of 'em if they didn't, I never knew. Everybody knew he'd almost killed a bloke who'd suggested he was queer for Brian, so I s'pose that might've been why nobody ever said anything." Paul shrugged. "And with them knowing about us, it was a bit easier. They helped us keep the secret."

Linda was still smiling as Paul practically _glowed_ talking about him. For the firsts time in a long time, she saw that happiness in his eyes. "Tell me more about him... what was he like when it was just you two? Was he different than I've seen? When did you fall in love with him?" because he had clearly been in love. Possibly ~~probably~~ still was if she was being honest with herself.

Paul raised an eyebrow at Linda, chuckling softly. "Why are you so interested? Is that your inner John Lennon fan speaking? I haven't forgotten about how you told me he was your favourite, y'know."

Linda looked down, burying her face against Paul's shoulder. "Maybe!" she said with a laugh of her own. "Or maybe it's because I can see how happy he made you... I haven't seen you like this in forever. I like hearing about what makes you happy, babe," she said as she looked back up, taking her hand to brush away the hair from his face. "So _tell me_ ," she said in a sing song voice, nudging him as she rested her arm on his shoulder. "When did you fall in love with John Lennon? I'll tell you when I did," she teased, scrunching her face up.

Paul laughed heartily, feeling genuinely happy that Linda was so supportive and understanding. He should have known - she was wonderful. Had always been.

"Well..." He began, pulling her towards him as he sighed, thinking. "I know it's cheesy, but I think I fell in love with him when I first saw him." He rolled his eyes at himself. "I didn't know what it was, then, of course. But I saw him, and I knew I needed to know him. Ivan, my mate from school, introduced us, and I played him a song. He'd looked at me like I was a kid - which I _was_ , I must've been fourteen then -, but I could tell he was impressed when I played. I went home and just thought about him for days, hoping he'd somehow contact me, even though we didn't exchange numbers or anything. I remember asking Ivan where he went to school, and I even went there, but I never saw him. He didn't go too often, anyway."

That _laugh_. It had been forever since she'd heard it. Linda smiled from ear to ear as Paul spoke, hanging on every word. "It's very cheesy, but who doesn't _really_ , deep down love cheesy?" she said with a little giggle. "He would've been a fool **not** to be impressed with you. Look at you! Even back then, I'm sure you were incredibly impressive," she nudged him again. "So you fell for the bad boy, huh? It doesn't surprise me that John didn't go to school very much," she said thoughtfully, though she couldn't help the little laugh that escaped. "Did he contact you or did you find him again?" she asked, clearly invested in this story now.

"Hey, now - you said you'd tell me if I told you first," Paul said, lying back down on the bed and taking Linda with him. He leaned on his elbow, free hand gently brushing Linda's blonde hair away from her face. "So, how did _you_ fall in love with John Lennon? Let me guess - was it the Ed Sullivan show? Were you heartbroken to find out that he was married?"

Linda lay on her back, looking over at Paul with a grin. "You're right, I did tell you that. And _yes_ ," she sighed, looking up at the ceiling. "I was heartbroken only mere moments after falling in love," she laughed, eyes back on Paul now. "I have to ask... all those love songs you guys wrote... were they about you and him?" she asked, turning on her side, leaning on her elbow to mirror her husband. She was overly interested in this, the mystery and the secrets surrounding the pair. She wanted to know everything, though for now, she'd steer clear of the end of it all. She couldn't take seeing Paul so upset again.

"Not all of them," Paul answered, stopping to think for a moment. "Most of them, I s'pose, but not all. Sometimes we just wrote about no one in particular. I still do. But if I was writing about someone, usually, yeah, it'd be John."

Linda hummed in response, staring at him for a moment with a smile. She reached out her free hand and pushed Paul onto his back and cuddled up against his chest, arm resting there. "Thank you for sharing with me... I know you don't like to open up and it's hard for you, but I'm so glad you did... I'm here for you however you need me to be," she said, looking up at him and kissing his bearded chin. "I really think you should put some of these feelings into a song... you've been avoiding music and I think it'd really help you to get these emotions out. You don't have to share the songs with anyone if you don't want to, but if you need an audience, I'm here," she smiled, fingertips gently rubbing over his chest.

Paul hugged Linda tightly against his chest, breathing in her scent and kissing the top of her head. "No, thank _you_. For listening and for understanding." As she suggested he wrote a song to deal with his emotions, he nodded, "Yeah. You're right. I do need to get back to work - finish the songs for the album."

"I think you'll feel better once you start recording again... or even just _writing_. And you're welcome," she smiled, pressing close against him, her leg draping over his on the edge of the bed. "Do you feel any better getting all that off your chest? I can't imagine that's been an easy secret to keep..." she said, pressing a kiss to his chest.

"A lot better. I'm sorry I didn't tell you before - I didn't know how you'd react. S'pose I forgot for a second there that I married the most incredible woman on the planet," Paul said with a smile, angling a hand underneath her chin to bring her face up towards his for a kiss. "I love you. So much."

She couldn't help the wide smile on her face as he spoke, her lips finding his and pressing against them softly. "I love you, too," she said softly. She was so relieved that this hadn't ended badly. An old love she could deal with---but Paul sulking away, alone, she could not. Maybe now that he had it all out, he could focus again on his family, on writing, creating. She kissed him again, a hand on his cheek as she did. "So much," she added with a smile. She moved away to grab the camera from the nightstand and snapped a quick picture of an unsuspecting Paul with a laugh.

"Oi!" Paul looked back with a laugh, having stood up to fetch a cigarette off of the nightstand. Another noise came from across the room, though; the quiet creaking of their bedroom door opening up to reveal a sleepy, bed-headed Heather holding a teddy bear in her arms. 

"Hey, you," he said, immediately putting his cigarettes down before making his way over to his adopted daughter. "Did you have a nice nap? Is your sister still asleep?" He asked as he picked her up, pressing a kiss to her soft cheek.

"Mmhmm," she answered, cuddling against him. Linda put a hand on the back of Heather's head gently as she kissed her as well. She gave Paul a real smile, kissing his cheek, too. She knew he was back and they could finally begin to move forward with this new chapter of their lives.


End file.
